


you're here, too?

by kwritten



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Femslash, Bechdel Test Pass, Canonical Character Death, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:07:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in the moments after battle, two old friends have an awkward talk</p><p>from prompt: Anya and Buffy, post season seven, adulthood</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're here, too?

The knock comes too soon. She's still staring down at her shirt in her hand.  
  
She doesn't answer because there's something stuck in her throat. Something she can't swallow.  
She stands there in a blind panic. Maybe she'll never be able to talk again. (Maybe that'd be preferable.) She doesn't know whether to try to clear her throat or even remember if she's already tried.  
  
She thinks maybe this time she'll just wait for a while and be very still.  
(She can be very quiet.)  
  
She feels like she is in a tunnel. (That's not right...) She feels a little bit like that time Freshman year when she got drunk - cavegirl drunk - and everything seemed to have a simple purpose and the world was clearer, because it was only what she could touch and see. Right now everything was like that.  
  
Only not.  
  
Actually she longed for that kind of clarity.  
  
She was standing in a space looking down at her shirt and she couldn't speak and somewhere there was a knocking so there must be a door. And that's all she knew or could think or could see.   
  
She thought maybe she should remember something vitally, essentially important.  
  
But the roar in her ears and the blurring of her vision on the edges was a protective shield.  
  
If she moved, if she spoke, then the world would come back in.  
  
And she'd have to remember.  
  
She thought she didn't want to remember. She just wanted to stand there very quietly and not think.  
  
Remembering might break her.  
  
(She sees herself splitting into a thousand tiny shards and falling to the floor in disarray. She thinks that wouldn't be so bad. She thinks maybe that's not how she's supposed to feel. She wonders who will sweep up the shards of her.   
  
She wonders if this time she'll stay broken.)  
  
  
  
The knocking stopped and a pair of hands gently took the shirt out of her hands.   
  
She struggled. She pulled back. She didn't want to lose that shirt. She needed it. She needed everything to stay exactly, perfectly still and quiet and if she moved she'd break.  
  
(She didn't break.)  
  
(She held onto her regret.)  
  
The hands lead her through a fog into water. Her body knew what to do. Her hands scrubbed and moved rhythmically in time to a beat she couldn't remember. She felt her throat tighten and she lifted her face into the stream of water and let the salty tears flow in disguise.   
  
The world brightened and the fog lifted and the roar in her ears dissipated until all she could hear was the sound of water falling around her and her own sobs.  
  
  
  
  
  
Anya was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed like a pin up girl, reading a magazine and sipping from a disposable thermos.  
  
"I remember my first apocalypse. The first one I didn't run from." She didn't look up, just turned the page. "You were there. And you won, just like today."  
  
Buffy stood awkwardly at the entrance to the steaming bathrobe in a white cotton robe and didn't know what to say.  
  
Anya looked up, mascara smudged and dripping down her cheeks, "I could sue on grounds of giving me a false sense of security." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed. "Also there's bagels."  
  
  
  
  
  
They sat on the bed and ate bagels and drank (mostly warm) hot chocolate and watched bad daytime TV in matching white robes, Buffy's ankle slung over Anya's and their shoulders, elbows, hands knocking against each other. It grew dark outside.   
  
They stayed in their tunnel.  
  
  
  
  
Sometime soon they'd have to count the dead. Out there, beyond their safe cocoon, there were decisions to be made and wounded to be cared for and a General they were all waiting for.  
  
Buffy wanted nothing more than to keep forgetting.  
  
  
  
  
Later, she'd realize that she was surprised that it wasn't Faith there with a smirk and witty comeback to cover the fear and to hand her stale bagels. Later, she'd realize that she should have gone to Dawn with a hug and a comforting word. (They did that for each other, she learned.) (They were better at those things for each other than she was.)  
  
  
  
  
  
"So what happens now?"  
  
"Adulthood I expect."  
  
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "With the bills to pay and the decisions to make and the making lunches? I already did that. I don't like it. Let's trade in adulthood at the store for a nice bout of drunken college debauchery and parental disapproval."  
  
"I don't think they let you do that. Not in this dimension anyway. I do know a very pleasant witch in N'gla who makes a trade in repeated childhoods. Sets you up with very nice families the first few times."  
  
"This time I think I want a boring cubicle job with pencil skirts and one of those funny head-set things and a boyfriend in Accounting."  
  
"While Dawn works as a barista on the weekends."  
  
"Finally has those dance lessons she's been wanting."  
  
Buffy sighed into her reverie and wiggled deeper into the pillow fort they've made.  
  
"I don't think that's how it's going to work."  
  
"I can dream, can't I?"  
  
"Dream big Slayer-girl. Castles and demon-fighting and rebuilding the Watcher's Council and being a Hero and training your knights. If you build a round table, don't sleep with anyone's wife - in fact don't tempt Nessy, just limit yourself to square tables."  
  
"I-- wait. Nessy?"  
  
"Demon from the old days. She's got a big thing for round tables. Unfortunately, she got a little too cocky with that Arthur incident, being famous can really wreck future gigs."  
  
"Dracula didn't seem to have a problem."  
  
"Dracula counted on his story being sexy enough that people  _want_ to find out if he's real. There's not a lot of sexy about accidentally falling in love with your sister."  
  
Buffy burst out laughing. Full, large guffaws. Tears flooded her eyes.   
  
And then she was deep, ugly crying. Just like that. Without any warning. One minute, laughing harder than she had in a long, long time. And the next she was gasping for breath between shuddering sobs.   
  
Anya chuckled softly and pulled Buffy into her chest, petting her hair. "You lost a lot today, didn't you?"  
  
Buffy nodded and sniffed loudly.  
  
"It's supposed to feel finished at the end." Anya mused above her after she had calmed down a bit. "Like there's the bad guy on the floor, here's an explosion, it's all finished - let's party. Only everything started this time. There was no end."  
  
"No party."  
  
"I hear adult parties are different. There's more food involved. And wine. Fancy cheeses."  
  
"Tablecloths and napkin holders and everything comes in mini."  
  
"I don't think that's the kind of adulthood that's waiting for you on the other side of that door."  
  
"No, it's not."   
  
Anya pushed Buffy gently away and stood up. "It's time Slayer. Time to face the trumpets and put on your General hat."  
  
Buffy shook her head, but stood up anyway, taking a deep breath and shaking herself slightly. Anya was right. It was time to leave their pillow fort and face the world she created.  
  
"But like... in human clothing if you don't mind," Anya chided. "I don't think the baby Slayers want to see the full Buffy."  
  
Buffy blushed and headed unsteadily to the bathroom.  
  
She paused in the doorway and looked back at her friend, "Being an adult is easy, right?"  
  
Anya smiled a teary smile, "They say it's the best."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Buffy emerged from the bathroom in slightly damp clothes, silently thanking Anya for rinsing them out while she was showering earlier. The hotel room was empty. Buffy shrugged. Anya was probably with the troops by now. She smiled and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, stepping out into the daylight with squared shoulders.  
  
She was ready.  
  
  
  
  
Buffy was only half-listening to Xander as he gave her an update over body count and wounds.  
  
"We lost Amanda, Wood, Spike, and --" Xander swallowed hard. "And Anya." He rushed on, nearly tripping over his words, "Everyone's wounds seem to be healing alright, we still have a couple of girls in the hospital but--"  
  
"Wait." Buffy whirled around to look at Xander. "What do you mean we lost Anya?"  
  
"She ... she died. Saving Andrew."  
  
Buffy blinked rapidly. "That's not possible."  
  
Xander held out his hands to her in quiet desperation, "I wish..."  
  
"No."  
  
It was happening again. The tunnel. It was coming back. She could feel it closing in. She closed her eyes and waited to crumble.  
  
Faith grabbed Buffy by the arm and shook her a little. "You okay, B?"  
  
Buffy turned to her wildly, but unseeing, "But I  _saw_  her. I talked to her. She... we... She  _can't_ be...."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dawn says she fainted, but Xander will always argue that Faith hit her across the face and caused the blackout. It never mattered to Buffy, because ... well it just never mattered in the long run. She woke up when they were back on the road, rattling on a bus seat with her head in Dawn's lap.  
  
  
The others chocked it up to battle fatigue and let her rest as much as possible. Faith took the reigns with Kennedy and Dawn at her side, directing Slayers to and fro, keeping things organized. Buffy tried to stay grounded, but it was easier to claim the trauma was too much and she needed rest. (And maybe that was true, anyway.) They went to Cleveland. Someone suggested LA, but the Watchers had a pretty good set-up in Ohio, a full office building with some living suits, so they chose a road trip across country. The girls took photos and found ways to entertain themselves. The bus became cozy until it became cramped, but by that point they were already there.  
  
Some girls went home. Others joined them. Buffy thanked the Council for keeping Cleveland so well-stocked. Giles took Andrew, Dawn, and a few other girls to London to assess the state of the Council's foreign assets. Within a month, Xander contracted Riley as a liaison and was off to South America for recruitment and to nurse his wounds. Faith had disappeared long before that, sending word now and again through ragged postcards or recruits on the doorstep with her stubborn jaw, as if she was only capable of finding the Slayers that were the most like her.   
  
  
  
  
  
Three months later, Willow found Buffy crying over the kitchen sink in their suite at the top of the Watcher's building. They all called it the Slayer Tower now, but Andrew sent out nearly bi-weekly mass emails petitioning for a better name.  
  
"Oh Buff," Willow said with those sad, too-knowing eyes and wrapped her arms around Buffy, leaning her cheek on her shoulder. "I'm sorry he's gone. Even if I never really liked him, I know--"  
  
"What?" Buffy shrugged out of the hug and grabbed a towel off the counter to dry her hands. "What are you talking about, Will?"  
  
"Um.. Spike?"  
  
"Oh." Buffy stared at her friend and then plopped down on the floor in a heap. "Oh! ohmygod Will. He's  _gone_."  
  
"I know sweetie. I'm so sorry."  
  
Buffy looked up at Willow and shook her head, "But that's not why I was crying. Shouldn't that be why I was crying?!" There was a note of hysteria creeping into her voice that frightened her.   
  
Willow crouched down beside her, "Well I think that you can cry about whatever you want."  
  
"But I haven't cried for him - not once. I think I should. But I can't."  
  
"So..." Willow did her best to keep her voice even. "So why are you crying now?"  
  
"Anya was in the hotel with me, Will."  
  
Willow rocked back on her heels, her brow furrowed. "What? When?"  
  
"After... after everything. She was there. She was in the hotel with me. We ate bagels and watched cartoons and she..." Buffy's throat did that funny thing again where it closed up on her and refused to let anymore words out. She whispered around her own body's decision to stop the words from coming out, "She can't be.... She  _can't_ be... I  _saw_ her."  
  
Willow leaned against the kitchen counter and chewed on her lip for a moment, "I did a spell for Xander. The minute we were on the bus. To track her, find her. But she... I  couldn't. She's really dead, Buffy. I know."  
  
Buffy's voice broke, "Then  _how_?"  
  
Willow shrugged helplessly, "I don't know. That kind of magick...."  
  
"Was it the First?" Buffy thought she'd never regain her voice again and she'd be stuck whispering for the rest of her life.  
  
"Impossible. We've checked everywhere. I've called in all the favors I can. The First is definitely not here. Not in this dimension anymore anyway. Possibly dead. But things like that... they can't really  _die_ die."  
  
Buffy waved her hand impatiently, "Then what was I talking to?!"  
  
Willow's eyes glistened, "Anya."  
  
"Really really?"  
  
"I can check some books but... did it help? Talking to her?"  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Then it was her. Period. End of story. I can be research girl if you want but... I think it's better if it just stays Anya."  
  
Buffy curled her arms into her chest and sunk her head down onto her knee, "It hurts more."  
  
"More than what?"  
  
"More than anything else does. She was there one minute and then -- poof! And then I find out she was gone all the time? It's like... it's like..."  
  
"Hurts."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They sat there for a while, Buffy bent in half on the floor, legs curled under her, and Willow with her head leaning against a cupboard, each woman lost in their own thoughts.   
  
"What did you talk about?" Willow finally broke the silence, her voice sounding slightly strangled.  
  
Buffy raised her head to look at her friend, resting her elbows on the floor and her chin in her hand. What would Willow say to Tara if she had one more chance? What would any of them say to the people they've buried over the years?   
  
She smiled, "Castles and round tables."  
  
Willow looked over and smiled back, "We should get a castle in her honor. We have the money."  
  
"But no round tables."  
  
"Andrew and Xander will love it."  
  
"Make us have jousting festivals."  
  
"Walk around the place using fake British accents."  
  
"Enact scenes from Monty Python in the halls."  
  
"We shouldn't know all this stuff."  
  
Buffy laughed. "Of all the things in the world that we shouldn't know - you're going to question the geek knowledge that's filtered through?"  
  
Willow shook her head, "If I question the rest, I'll go crazy." She stood up. "Dawn's plane should be here within the hour so I'm gonna finish setting up her room. Do you want me to come with you to pick her up?"  
  
Buffy sat up, shaking her head, "Andrew insisted we use the helipad on the roof. Arranged her transport from the airport here himself. A little too pleased about it, too. I'm gonna bake some cookies if you want to help?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Willow started to walk out of the kitchen, when Buffy called after her, "Hey Will?"  
  
Willow turned and looked down at the Slayer still sprawled on the floor, "Yeah?"  
  
"We have a helipad!"  
  
They giggled, "I know, right!? How did that happen?"  
  
"Adulthood can be pretty sweet."  
  
"Yeah, Buff. Adulthood isn't so bad."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Dawn blew through a couple hours later, with Faith on her arm, her hair a little longer and skin a little tanner, eating cookies through her gossip and demanding a good old-fashioned girl's night in with movies and pizza, Buffy retreated to a corner of the kitchen and watched her friends and sisters. There were too many missing - they dwindled down one by one and each time her family got a little smaller, a little tighter. Growing up only seemed to make that more true. As if each year she needed them more instead of less.  
  
They say adulthood is about independence and responsibility and something about bootstraps.  
  
For Buffy, adulthood will always be the part where you are shoulder to shoulder in the wake of the wreckage, watching cartoons, eating stale bagels and drinking lukewarm cocoa.  
  
(Or the part where you lie in the crook of someone's arms before the battle to gain strength and it gets you through.)  
  
They say adulthood is white picket fences and 2.5 offspring and mortgages.  
  
They'd probably say she was wrong.  
  
Because adulthood is sitting on the counter eating cookies with her sisters and laughing because they survived and so they can.


End file.
